The Lost and the Found, Part 1
by NukeMyWaffle
Summary: Sometimes, when something becomes lost, it can never be found. However, sometimes, when something becomes lost, it really has just gone missing. And sometimes, when something becomes lost, it comes looking for YOU...


No excuse, really. The only explanation is that real life and writer's block got the better of me.

Please enjoy.

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><p>Harry PotterSailor Moon

**"The Lost and the Found"**

**Part I: "The Beginning"**

**Chapter 1**

It took _more_ than the smells accompanying burnt ozone and flesh to make her sick anymore, _more_ than the smell of fresh death. It was the _guilt_ that got her stomach to roll but _not_ guilt of whom it _was_, now on the floor of the greenhouse of the evening-flourishing plants—but of whom it _could_ have been. She swallowed her stomach back down where it belonged and licked her pale lips before reaching a trembling hand towards the previously dropped wand partially rolled under the gardener's table she had collapsed beside. With her wand in hand once more, she reached up for the ledge of the table and used it to help herself onto her feet, her legs shaky from shock.

She fixed her glasses and tucked her hair behind her ear, looking for _any_ sign of the _real_ reason she had to keep her wits about her. She licked her lips again and looked around with her wand at the ready, keeping an eye out for _anyone_ else. She carefully stepped over an outstretched arm and a half bent leg, heading for the open greenhouse doors in hopes of slipping away undetected.

Thick glass shattered, forcing her take cover under the nearest gardener's bench, and her shock was momentarily pushed aside by annoyance. She huffed up her fringe and belly-crawled further down beneath the bench before she finally slipped out from under her temporary shelter. She bit the shaft of her wand and redid her loose ponytail, only taking her wand back in her hand when that task was completed.

_This_ was the part she _hated_, the anxious cat-and-mouse game that _always_ seemed to follow a felled body. She knew _he_ didn't mind it, as _he_ was the _Cat_ in this….but that didn't mean she was necessarily the _Mouse_, even if _he_ thought she was. She had to find _some _way of turning this around on him, give _herself_ the advantage.

Unbidden, her head turned towards the two corpses with smoking hearts. She swallowed thickly, attempting to _not_ let her panic overwhelm her. She _still_ had to deal with the one that had _set_ them on her, so definitely _not_ the time to panic.

Suddenly there was a blast of wind threatening to knock her off her feet and a shower of sparks overhead. She _barely_ had time to leap out of the way, using a shoulder roll to get back to her feet, as the overhead lights came down _right_ where she had been, plunging the greenhouse into darkness and the wind instantly gone. She didn't _dare_ stand up _or_ light the tip of her wand to make a pretty target, keeping her back pressed against a supporting beam, and moistened her lips as her eyes adjusted to the dark in a few blinks.

If the bastard wanted her so _badly_, he was gonna have to _work_ for it—_just_ like _all_ the times _before_.

A tingle throbbed (there's _no_ other way to explain it) on her hand, reminding her that she had _one_ advantage in this game, that she had _literally_ cut from _his_ hand. It was an easy matter to tip this chase into her favor, soft whispering and a chilling breeze out of nowhere telling her that it had worked, even if she wasn't seeing the immediate results. It didn't matter; she _knew_ how this worked.

"Where _are_ you, my _dear_?" He purred, his shadow passing the broken windows across the greenhouse. He gestured at the structure and the glass _shattered_, raining down on her. She cast a silent spell as she tightened into a protective ball, waiting for the sharp pieces of the fragile transparent barrier to stop falling around her.

She checked carefully; he couldn't see her for the gardening tables covered with plants on top and covering supplies underneath. She was careful and as silent as possible when she finally moved, silencing the glass that would be under each step she took. It was slow and anxiety-ridden but she made it to the other set of doors. She prodded the lock with her wand and heard the faint _click_ that was overshadowed by his taunts and bizarre pet names.

Did he _really_ think calling her a "withering gardenia" was going to get her to _answer_?

Silencing the hinges, she pushed one of the doors outward silently after lifting the bolt that helped keep it with its brother. She repeated the task with its twin and planned on crawling out in the small space she was making between them.

A plan that was _almost_ ruined when a fierce blast of wind ripped through the center of the greenhouse.

She crouched close to the glass-covered ground and braced herself to keep from being knocked over. She sighed with relief when she wasn't discovered, but the doors were open to let her escape undetected. The last thing she did before dashing out of the greenhouse, was to make sure the bastard was still on that other side of the building. And when he turned, she bolted from the greenhouse, heading for the nearest tall structure—even if it _was_ technically academic enemy territory.

She was barely _feet_ out the doors when she heard it—a hiss in Latin, bringing a musty glitter taste (if glitter _had_ a taste) to the back of her tongue. She swiftly cast a shield to protect herself from the spell, hoping it would hold. The spell and her shield connected, and a near physical blow to her gut was _all_ the warning she had before she was sent _flying_ back from the impact.

It wasn't the _impact_ that caused heat to sear through her body and a gasp to leave her lips, but what she had _landed on_. At the edge of her vision, she saw the glass-imbedded limb of one of the bodies. She tried to take a breath but found herself choking, blood spilling over her lips and down her cheeks, her throat failing to swallow the liquid. She dimly heard the crush of glass underfoot as a pale light washed out the blurring edge of her vision, the source coming closer with each steady step forward.

A wizard…he had a _wizard_ helping him. It was the _only_ explanation for the reason why the magic-user stood off to the side while _he_ (with his quick, crunching steps) came to the empty space near her waist and leaned over her, obviously delighting in her agony.

"My, my, my. Aren't _we_ a sight to see, hmm?" He purred, watching her choke on the blood that spilled from her mouth. "I'd be _surprised_ if you recover _this_ time. Now that you're on your way out, maybe I ought to go visit your pretty little _friend_."

Anger flared through her body at the mention of the _only_ person she considered her better half. He had now _crossed the line_ by threatening her friend—and he was _not_ going to leave this greenhouse without a _reminder_ of just _what_ she was capable of. With the anger giving her strength, she raised her arm and lashed out with a spell but she wasn't the _only_ one with a wand.

"_Sectumsempra!"_

Heavy gashes ripped through her body as her arm dropped, her wand to clatter onto the shards slowly being engulfed by the steadily growing puddle of blood. With a silent wish for her friend's safety, she exhaled her final breath and closed her eyes as she reached for Death's unfurling offered hand.

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><p>I don't know what to say about this, other than it was pretty interesting to write. I think it turned out well, honestly.<p>

Please let me know what you think. ^^


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